


All The Works Of Our Hands

by morifiinwe



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (he knows he's probably about to die), Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Rings of Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morifiinwe/pseuds/morifiinwe
Summary: It is only a matter of time before Sauron realises what Celebrimbor knows and what he has done. There is nothing but memory to help him now, but though a memory cannot forge a ring, it can give you strength.---For Tolkien Gen Week 2020
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Sons of Fëanor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	All The Works Of Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> today has been A Day, but at least i wrote a fic, even if it is quite short. not sure how well it fits with the prompt of today, but he's physically by himself, y'know

This would be the last act of the House of Fëanor, and it would, Celebrimbor hoped, be a good one to remember them by. True, he was the reason that they were in this particular mess, but he was going to do his best to drag everyone as far up and out of it as he could before he died, and then trust Elrond and Gil-galad and Galadriel to take care of all the rest. For now he was on his own, and this long walk down to the forge was the scariest thing he’d ever done. He wondered if his father would be proud of him.

He had already given the orders to begin preparing for evacuation. He had letters ready to send, filled with apologies and well wishes, for the last living members of his family. Only the rings were left, rings that Annatar—that Sauron had never touched and would have no power over.

This corridor was longer than he remembered.

He imagined his family walking with him, his father and his grandfather debating over the best way to make and strengthen the rings, Caranthir chipping in with ideas about the design. Celegorm would be discussing something utterly unrelated with Amrod and Amras, all three talking in a very animated fashion, Maglor rolling his eyes at Celebrimbor, but looking impossibly fond of the trio. Maedhros would place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently, and Celebrimbor would know he meant love and pride and fierce protectiveness.

They were not here, of course. They were in the Halls of Mandos, or in some unknown location in Middle-Earth, and they could not help him now. But the memory of them could. They had, for all their faults and failings, been defiant against the Enemy until the end. Celebrimbor could carry on in that tradition, could face the Enemy and say  _ I will not yield _ , and perhaps that would make them proud.

He could do better too. The rings would be better than the Silmarils, because they would be made only to protect, and the Enemy would never get his hands on them.

He had reached the forge. He stood still and silent in the doorway, for a moment too terrified to even breathe. Was this how Finrod had felt, marching to meet his doom with Beren? Was this how Fingon had felt, facing the might of Thangorodrim alone? They had both gone on. Celebrimbor could go on.

It would be lonely work. It would be his best work. He was ready to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! please leave comments and kudos if you did!


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